She Won't Wear Shoes

I left the rain...
The swarm of perfumed beauties
The pickup trucks
Where lost parts of the girl had rolled forgotten
Dented and marred
Under his seat

I left the pine...
The hub of buttery meals
The sister self
Who'd now brave the job of number one
And in weeks be begging,
pleading defeat

I left the river...
The thrashing reminder of things winter takes
the graves of darlings
that I worked at keeping properly lost
and yet continued to find
passage up my street

I left them all:
The horizon at my back
The bloom in my past
And the ache buried deep
Boxed up in the attic
Of a little girl
who wouldn't wear shoes
but danced to told beats

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